Half a Petal
by Chibi's Sister
Summary: He loves her, but she loves him not. Love is complicated. Oneshot.


A/N: I wrote this one-shot to delve a little into the Yami/Tea/Yugi love triangle and Yugi's thoughts on it. It roughly corresponds to right before Yami and Tea's little outing and museum trip, but doesn't align perfectly with the canon. I love comments of all shapes, sizes, and tenor, (except for flames) so please reveiw.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh. That is why it's called _fan_fiction.

Half a Petal:

We walk down the hall and out of the school together. We don't actually touch, but she's smiling and cheerful, like she always is, and I know some people will think we're "together". The thought gives me a warm glow, even though I know it isn't true. Mostly likely, she's not even thinking about me,; her mind probably occupied with a thousand other things, like the homework she's just received, or her latest after-school job, or, especially, her dancing. Those dreams she's always had of becoming a professional dancer have been weighing on her mind lately. She's got a lot of potential, she's so talented and naturally so graceful and expressive. And her body is so lithe and….I feel my cheeks go red at the direction my thoughts are taking.

I hastily glance at her to see if she's noticed. She hasn't of course. I don't even know if she's looked at me once since we met in the hallway. We're not even talking, like we sometimes do. She must be really preoccupied. A thought strikes me. Could she be thinking about…I suppress the idea, unwilling to ponder it. Probably because I know it's likely. A sudden depression weighs down on me, and I fight to shrug it off. I don't want _him_ thinking I'm upset. He might ask me questions I don't want to answer, try to understand thoughts I don't want to share. My hand brushes the golden Puzzle at my neck instinctively. That's the catch, sort of. I'll never be alone again—even when I would like to be. I sigh softly, barely audibly.

But she hears. She looks down at me, concern in her clear blue eyes. "You all right, Yugi?" she asks.

"Yeah." I reply quietly. She noticed me at least. But her voice has only friendly caring in it, nothing else. I love being Tea's friend, but I keep finding myself wishing to be something more. But I'd never want to jeopardize what I have with her. I couldn't stand it if I ruined our friendship. I shake my head softly, trying to clear my thoughts.

She sees, I think, but misinterprets, nodding her head slowly. "Oh. I guess you've got a lot on your mind. You and the Spirit of the Puzzle must be trying really hard to find his lost memories, huh?" her voice is low, so no one else can hear, and understanding, though she really doesn't understand at all.

I sigh inwardly, although I'm careful not to let Tea see how I feel. I wasn't thinking about the other me at all, I was thinking about Tea. But now she's thinking about him. I watch her carefully out of the corner of my eyes. There's just that certain twist to her smile, a slight flush on her cheeks, that special glow in her eyes as she mentions the spirit that shares my mind. I close my eyes against the pang that stabs my heart.

She doesn't notice, and I'm glad. It's better if she doesn't know how much it hurts when she smiles that certain way, when she uses that special tone, when she makes it obvious in a hundred subtle ways, that she'd rather have the company of my other. If she knew how I feel about her, it would only make everything awkward and messy and make her unhappy. And I couldn't bear her unhappiness. Tea deserves better. She deserves everything: her dancing, her dreams, her friends, a big stage in New York, fields of flowers and butterflies. She deserves everything she wants, and so much more. She shouldn't ever, ever be unhappy. And she's not; just as long as she doesn't know.

So I paste on a cheerful smile and mumble a few over-bright words as she makes her goodbyes, running off to dance class. She hurries so fast she trips and falls, tumbling into a little patch of grass. She picks herself up immediately, no complaint except a single bemoaning of her brand-new grass stain, and continues on her way, waving hurriedly behind her.

I watch her go, fading off into the busy streets of Domino. Then I look down at my feet, and notice a small flower in the crushed grass. It's been trampled and torn, but it's been trampled by _her_, so I pick it and cradle it in my hands. A sudden impulse strikes me, and I tear off one pale pink petal. "She loves me." I say softly, just above a whisper. A ridiculous warmth kindles in my heart and spreads down my face, although I know they're just words in a childish game.

I pluck another petal. "She loves me not." I frown, and take a breath, trying not to calculate the outcome before I get there.

"She loves me." Another smile and another petal falls.

"She loves me not." The flower grows barer and my expression colder.

"She loves me." I know how close I am and my hand trembles foolishly as I tear off a pale pink frill.

"She loves me not." I close my eyes, hardly daring to look at the flower. Finally, my eyes crack open as I hope against hope the flower will not be an empty stalk.

What does half a petal mean?

That's what I have, a torn and jagged little petal fragment. The rest must have been torn off by Tea's stumble. I contemplate it a while. Well, she doesn't _not_ love me, right? But she doesn't really love me, either. I sigh. I know the answer to this riddle.

My other. He's me, but he's not me. To Tea, I know, he's the me she wishes I would be. He's the me that she loves. But that's not really me.

I think about how happy she is when she sees him, the slight way her eyes light up. Like bits of the sky just landed in them. I want her to look like that, to have that blissful smile. I just want her to look at _me_ like that. But she won't. She loves my other. And I love her.

And that's why, after school the next day, I ask her if she'd hang out with the other me this afternoon. A date for the two of them, though I don't say it that way. She seems surprised, but readily agrees.

I watch as she smiles, and her beautiful larkspur eyes spark with that lover's gleam. Not for me, but for my other. But she's happy, that's the important thing. Yes, she's very happy. My smile is bittersweet as I watched her cheerfully stroll away, a slight bounce in her step that wasn't there before. I take the dried little petal fragment out of my pocket and glance down at it. She loves me a little. I guess I'll have to be happy with that for now.


End file.
